Georgie Porgie
by myrmidryad
Summary: George was Arthur's last manservant - remember the poor sod in ep 1 having knives thrown at him? This is his reaction to getting sacked and his advice to Merlin, his replacement. No pairings yet, and no slash. Merlin's first week. On permanent hiatus.
1. Sacked! Oh The Joy!

_Unloading the dishwasher, I had a random wonder at what had happened to Arthur's last manservant. I wondered how he had died, then realised that he was in the first episode - the poor guy Arthur was throwing knives at (git). I thought he looked like a bit of a George, and wondered what advice he would have given his replacement - Merlin. So here we are! Tell me what you think._

**DISCLAIMER:** _If this was a real disclaimer, it would be funny._

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_Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie, kissed the girls and made them cry. When the boys came out to play, Georgie Porgie ran away_.

George grinned like an idiot as the guard who had found him walked away. Discharged! He was discharged from his duties as Prince Arthur's manservant! George checked no one was looking, then grinned and did a little happy dance. His day really couldn't get any better.

As footsteps sounded on the corridor floor, he sobered and straightened up – he recognised that imperious stride all too well.

Prince Arthur in all his golden-haired glory turned the corner sharply and shoved George out of the way. "It's your lucky day." He snapped. "You're fired."

"Yes, Sire." George couldn't keep the cheerful grin off his face. "A guard told me."

Arthur's face was thunderous as he turned on his former servant. "Then what are you still doing here? Get out!" As George scurried away to the door, Arthur yelled after him, "And find that idiot who has to serve me now! I have need of him!"

George didn't reply as he ran away down the corridor, laughing gleefully to himself all the way. He turned a corner too fast and bumped into a familiar figure – Guinevere, the Lady Morgana's maidservant. "Sorry," He stuttered, holding her upright. "Sorry!"

She smiled. "That's okay, George. I expect anyone would run for joy on discovering that they've been sacked from Arthur's side." She laughed, and George broke into a grin.

"You got that right!" He let go of her and they both wheeled around as a yell of anger came from Arthur's chamber, accompanied by the clang of an object hitting the wall. There was a silence, and then the two servants looked at each other. "I am so glad," George said fervently, "That I don't have to serve him anymore."

Gwen smiled. "I'm happy for you. Where will you work now?"

"Oh, my uncle was saying that there's a position open for a stable boy." George waved a hand. "I'll be fine. I'm just sorry for the poor sod who's next in line."

Gwen pulled a face. "Yes, poor Merlin."

"Merlin?" George asked, curious.

"He saved Arthur's life at the banquet," Gwen explained, "So Uther hired him instead of you." At George's baffled look, she smiled and went on. "He was the boy who confronted Arthur in the training yard when he was bullying you. He tried to punch Arthur, remember?"

George's eyes widened. "_He's_ Arthur's new manservant? What on earth possessed him to save that gits life?" He and Gwen flinched as another object hit the wall of Arthur's room. "On second thought," George said, still staring at the door to Arthur's chambers, "I'll just go and get him. Do you know where he is?" He turned to Gwen hopefully.

She nodded. "I expect he'll be with Gaius in the physician's quarters."

George smiled. "Thanks. See you around."

"You too." Gwen smiled and they parted ways.

George was servant-born, and knew the layout of the castle like the back of his hand. He was at the door to Gaius's quarters in less than a minute and knocked on the door. "Merlin! Prince Arthur wants you right away!"

A few seconds later the door opened, and there stood Arthur's saviour. George ran an eye over him quickly. Tall, lanky, dark-haired and with the look of a gangly foal just learning to walk – too many knees and elbows. Still, perhaps that would mean he'd be better at dodging whatever Arthur was in the mood to throw.

"Merlin?" He asked, just checking.

"That's me." The tall boy sighed, closing the door behind him. "Aren't you his last servant?"

"Yeah." George smiled sympathetically. "Come on. You must have really bad luck."

"Guess so." Merlin's shoulders slumped. "I don't suppose you could give me any tips?" He asked hopefully as they walked.

George nodded kindly. "Sure. First – make sure you get up just _before_ dawn so that when Arthur gets up _at_ dawn, he isn't kept waiting. He'll expect you to bring breakfast for him from the kitchens – just ask and they'll give you a tray. Second – always laugh at his jokes, whether they're funny or not. Third – if he tells you to do something, don't ask why, or how, just do it. Fourth – keep a list in your head of what he does and doesn't like. Fifth – never, _ever_ ask about his personal relationships, especially with his father and the Lady Morgana." He winced and rubbed his shoulder at a remembered missile.

Merlin stared at him, his jaw slightly agape. "Anything else?"

"Oh yes." George nodded seriously. "Memorise his schedule and follow it to the letter except for when he tells you otherwise. Remember that you don't have free time – there's always armour to polish, dogs to exercise, his chambers to clean, his horses to muck out, his socks to wash…"

"I don't have to do his laundry!" Merlin gasped, horrified.

George smiled crookedly. "Afraid so. From here on in, you are his most trusted servant. Pretty much everything is done by you."

Merlin groaned and hung his head in defeat.

George took pity on the boy and patted his back awkwardly. "I don't think you'll do too badly, if it's any help."

"Really?" Merlin asked despondently, lifting his head.

George pulled a face. "Provided you can get through the first week." Merlin groaned and hung his head again. "You just have to hold your tongue." George told him. "He'll be especially nasty to you because you tried to stand up to him. Just say "Yes, Sire" to whatever he says – blank out anything that isn't a direct order – and you'll be fine." He slapped Merlin's back and grinned.

Merlin sighed. "Yeah right. I save his life, and this is my reward?" He cried. "How is that fair?"

George shrugged. "He'll be just as annoyed – I hope you can duck fast, else you'll be covered in bruises soon."

Merlin threw him a look. "_Please_ tell me you're joking."

George shook his head sympathetically. "Nope. Don't worry," He reassured him. "Gwen will help you – she helped me a lot when I first started – and I'll be in the stables if he asks you to do something you don't know how to do."

"Yeah?" Merlin sighed as they turned into the corridor leading to Arthur's chambers.

"Sure." George grinned. They both flinched as a loud bang came from Arthur's room and exchanged looks – George's of concealed happiness at his freedom, Merlin's at horror and resignation at his own grim fate. "I'll leave you to it." George turned away with a shrug. "Oh!" He added, turning back. "Duck as soon as you open the door – he'll definitely have something ready to throw at you."

"Thanks." Merlin nodded sadly and turned to walk up the corridor, dragging his feet as though trying to prolong the wait. George watched him for a moment, then shrugged and jogged away, a grin spreading across his face. He was free!

As he turned the corner, he heard a bang and a furious yell. Poor Merlin, he thought, unable to stop smiling, he really was the unluckiest bugger in Camelot.

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_So should I continue? Review and let me know what you think._


	2. Day One: Like Horse, Like Rider

_My most hugest thanks to xtremefrolicker, PaperSpades and MirrorMyThoughts, for your lovely reviews which spurred me to write a second chapter. Especially to MirrorMyThoughts for faving! You give me happy squeals. Also to the other 48 people who read this little drabble. ^^_

**DISCLAIMED**

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George woke just before dawn out of habit, lifting his head wearily from his bed of…straw?

Straw. Stables. He grinned. He was a stable boy now! With a little happy sound, he let his head flop back to hit his makeshift pillow with a thump. Grinning up at the rafters above him, warmth from the horses below keeping him cosy, life was good.

George drifted in a kind of doze for a while, till the sharp sound of the door opening below woke him properly. Peering through the gaps in the floorboards, he saw his uncle – a great big bear of a man – stalking through the stables, searching for him.

"George?" He grunted, looking around. "Where are ye, boy?"

"Here." George smiled and waved as his uncle looked up and scowled good-naturedly.

"Found yerself a bed then. Clever lad. Now then, come on down an' we'll see what kind of a stable boy ye make."

George nodded and scrambled to the ladder, jumping down it quickly. Before he could blink, his uncle set him to work mucking out, feeding, turning out, grooming and checking the tack. And that was just to start with.

George whistled happily as he ploughed through the heavy workload, leaving his uncle standing to one side, scratching his head in confusion. "In all me days," He declared, "I ain't never seen a stable boy on 'is first day so 'appy."

"Anything is better than being Arthur's manservant." George confided, and his uncle threw back his head in a full-throated laugh. A knock on the stable door halted the exchange, and George grinned as Merlin's head poked around the side, wracked with confusion and nerves.

"George?"

"Yeah." George nodded. "He ask you to muck out Hubert?"

Merlin nodded unhappily and sloped over like he was walking to the gallows. George laughed, and his uncle raised his eyebrows and turned away slowly. As he passed his nephew, he clapped a hand on his shoulder and bent to whisper in George's ear, "Get rid of the lanky foal quick. You got work t'do."

"Yes, sir." George nodded as his uncle walked away. He ran a critical eye over Merlin. The older boy was tired, and his eyes had a certain hollow look that could only be gotten by having abuse thrown at you and being forced to ignore it. George pulled a sympathetic face. "It could be worse." He offered, leaning his broom up against a pillar and walking over to Merlin.

"How?" The tall boy asked despairingly.

"Well…" George hesitated, then brightened. "Did he bring your mother into it?"

Merlin's eyes widened in shock, and he shook his head dumbly. George smiled.

"Well then, he must like you for saving his life."

"That…" Merlin said disbelievingly, "Was him liking me?"

George nodded. "Afraid so. Come on – Hubert's not so bad once you get on his good side. Here –" He took an apple out of his pocket and handed it to Merlin. "Give him this and he'll be fine. You know horses?"

"Only farm horses." Merlin admitted.

"Well, thoroughbreds are just as big, but snobbier." George told him. "More often'n not, a horse's personality suits its rider. So think of Hubert as a stuck-up prince, and grovel."

"Grovel?" Merlin pulled a face.

"Yep." George steered him to Hubert's stall, where the large, dark gelding was glaring down his nose at them. "Walk in slowly, and hold out the apple."

Merlin nodded uncertainly and did as he was told, edging in at a snail's pace, holding the fruit out at arm's length. Hubert stretched out his neck suspiciously, and pulled his lips back over his huge yellow teeth. Suddenly, quicker than lightning, he sank his teeth into the apple, and Merlin's fingers.

Merlin yowled and his other hand came up to smack Hubert upside the head sharply. The horse was so shocked, he dropped the apple. Outside the stall, George was wearing much the same expression.

Merlin glared at the horse. "Think that's funny do you? Well don't try it again, or I'll hit you harder. Now," He bent to pick up the apple and held it out to Hubert, maintaining his glare the whole time, "Go on."

Hubert still looked surprised as he took the apple slowly from Merlin's hand, as if expecting Merlin's other hand to hit him again. When it didn't, he munched on the apple, still looking quite shocked. He'd probably never been smacked in his life.

George swallowed, regaining his power of speech. "Wow." He managed to gasp. "Well, erm…right then, you'd better blow in his nose, teach him your scent and that…"

Merlin didn't look away from Hubert as he did as George suggested, then straightened and backed out of the stall, turning to George with a grin. "Well I think that went well."

George just gaped at him.

Merlin walked past him, nursing his sore hand. "Think Arthur'd be that easy to deal with if I gave him a whack on the head?" He turned back to George, his grin faltering at the other boy's dumbstruck expression. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," George snapped out of his reverie and shook his head, "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just…" He puffed out his cheeks and blew out in a long whistle. "Blimey. I've never seen anyone stand up to Hubert like that. He's almost as bad as Arthur – like rider, like horse – but…phew." His eyes held a new respect for Merlin as they regarded him in a fresh light. "I reckon you'll be fine as Arthur's servant. If Hubert's taken to you so fast, and like horse, like rider…"

Merlin's face split into a huge smile. "You really think so?"

George nodded honestly. "Yeah. Wow. Come on then," He shook his head, getting back to business. "You'd better start mucking him out…"

Merlin nodded and turned around, only to trip on the broom George had leaned against the pillar minutes before and land in a tangled heap of knees and elbows, flat on his face.

"Well," George said dryly, "That's if you live long enough to get through the morning."

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_And you guys say...? What? Review and tell me ^^_


	3. Day Two: Three Baskets part 1

_Overwhelmed with your responses guys! Thanks! Love and ale go to the lovely Dragonrider2203, The-New-Nightingale (thank you for faving!), xtremefrolicker, Dec147, MirrorMyThoughts, Lozrii (thanks for adding me to the community! :D), PaperSpades and intoxicated soul for faving it. Also to the other 330-odd dudes who read this randomness! If I could do that little thing with the two upward-pointing triangles, I would. :D_

**DISCLAIMER:** _I OWN EVERYTHING! .....Nah, just kidding. I should be so lucky._

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George had just finished saddling up Lord Alfred's horse when Merlin poked his head around the door, a panicked expression on his face. "George!"

George nodded absently. "Mm?"

"What does 'round up the sticks' mean?"

George laughed and patted Alfred's horse on the rump, leading it out into the yard. "He means arrows. He's just trying to confuse you."

"He's doing a good job." Merlin muttered, following George outside. "And by the way – how am I meant to iron his clothes? Washing I can just about handle, but ironing…"

"Yeah, ironing's trickier." George nodded understandingly. "Let me give Lady here to Lord Alfred and I'll help you."

"Really?" Merlin grinned like an overjoyed puppy.

"Uh huh." George smiled back. His smile vanished as he turned solemnly to the slender, greying Lord Alfred. "My Lord."

"Thank you." The nobleman nodded, taking the reins from George's hand. The boy took a step back, bowed, and then turned back to Merlin.

"Right. Let's get going. How much laundry has he managed to rack up for you?"

"Three baskets." Merlin said miserably. "In _two days_! How is that even possible?"

George shrugged helplessly. "Well, there's undergarments that change every day, sometimes up to three times if he's been fighting particularly hard, different clothes for each part of his training – lessons, sparring, riding and so on. He has to change each night for the meetings with the King and Morgana, and of course the count bumps up higher if he has to sit in court that day, or if there's a banquet." He turned to Merlin, and hid his grin at the taller boy's gaping jaw.

"I manage to keep one set of clothes on all day! How hard can it be?"

"Yeah," George shrugged, "But he's the prince. He can't wear his sweaty sparring gear to a banquet, can he?"

Merlin looked at him shrewdly. "You _respect_ him, don't you?"

George looked away, tugging on his lips with his teeth uncomfortably. "It's hard not to." He admitted. "I mean, he is a pompous, self-righteous prat – not that I'd ever say it to his face like you did – but…" He trailed off and gave Merlin another helpless shrug. "You get used to it." He said finally.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Yeah right. He threw his breakfast at me this morning."

"Why?"

"Because I was a handy, living, breathing thing to have food thrown at." Merlin shrugged. "He said it was because the food was cold, but I checked, and it wasn't." He scowled. "He just wanted an excuse to throw it at me."

"Could have been worse." George told him.

"How?" Merlin asked pointedly.

George pursed his lips, thinking, then grinned. "He could have thrown the knives at you!"

Merlin sighed. "True."

George smiled. "Where're the three baskets then?"

"His chambers." Merlin said miserably.

"Come on then." George grinned. "The sooner we start, the sooner it'll be over."

"Are you always this positive?" Merlin asked as they ascended the servant's stairs.

George grinned and held out his palms. "It's better than being negative."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "In your opinion." He muttered.

George laughed, and the odd pair continued up the stairs. Upon reaching Arthur's bedroom, George gaped. The place was a mess. Either Arthur was purposely trying to make Merlin's life miserable, or Merlin was just totally inept when it came to being a manservant.

George suspected it was a little of both.

"So…" He turned to Merlin. "Where're the baskets?"

"Can't you see them?" Merlin stared at him, then at the room, as though the three baskets of dirty laundry would miraculously appear from the chaos.

George looked around. "It's such a mess in here, that no. I can't." He turned to Merlin. "Have you ever been a servant before?"

Merlin ducked his head sheepishly. "Well…"

George sighed. "No then."

"Well no one exactly needs servants in a farm village!" Merlin defended himself.

"And no one needs farmers in a castle." George smiled amusedly. "I think I'll have to teach you a few lessons. You're lucky my uncle gave me a few hours free."

Merlin sagged in relief. "You'll help?"

George laughed, taking pity on the older boy. "Yeah. Come on. First, I'll show you how to make a bed properly. We'll do the laundry last."

Merlin's head spun as he tried to take in everything George taught him. How to air the blankets before putting the back on the bed, how to tuck the sheets in when you where making it, how to smooth out the creases in the bedcover, how to thump the dust out of the pillows and then arrange them in the right way and fold the covers over them at the right angle.

And that was just making the bed.

There was also the fire to be tended, clothes to be aired out of the windows, folded and returned to their proper places, surfaces to be dusted, the floor to be swept and mopped, more wood brought in from the woodsheds, the desk to tidy, dust, wipe and re-organise…by the time they got around to the laundry, Merlin wanted to throw himself off the battlements.

He groaned loudly as George grinned and told him brightly that it was time to wash Arthur's royal socks.

"You've been doing this your whole life?" He asked in horror as they descended the stairs, three large baskets held between them.

"Pretty much." George shrugged. "My family all live here and serve the King as servants. My mother's a cleaner, my father's a torch maintainer and my sister's a scullery maid."

Merlin frowned. "What's a torch maintainer?"

"Well the torches don't light themselves." George grinned. "Someone has to keep them all burning, stocked with fuel, not giving off lots of smoke, keeping the lower levels lit in case someone decides to go down there…the most important duty he has is keeping the torches right down by the bottom well lit."

"The bottom well?" Merlin raised his eyebrows. "You mean Camelot's water source?"

"Yeah." George grimaced. "It's actually a really hard job to get – it'd be easy for him to poison the water there, seeing as he goes down every day, so he has to be totally trusted. He had to be interviewed by the King to get the job." George's voice held a touch of awe.

"So Uther trusts him." Merlin said.

George nodded proudly. "With the safety of the whole of Camelot."

"Wow." Merlin nodded, suitably impressed. "So how long have you been Arthur's manservant?" He asked. "I mean, before I came along?" A trickle of misery sneaked into his voice.

George smiled sympathetically as they stood aside for a couple of guards to pass. "About a year and a half now I'd say. Before that I was a spit boy in the kitchens."

"A what?" Merlin looked perplexed.

George laughed. This boy was really totally clueless. "A spit boy. When there's a big meal, there's a big animal what has to be roasted. So they stick it on a long metal pole – a spit – and put it over the big fire. And there's a little hole at one end where there's a handle on the pole, and there's a spit boy what sits in the hole and turns the spit so the meat all roasts equally. See?"

Merlin nodded. "I get it. Doesn't it get hot?"

George grimaced. "Very. And the smell of food being roasted while you're hungry is agony." He grinned. "Still, the hole's quite small, and I got too big, so my father managed to set me up to be Arthur's manservant." His grin widened. "And then you came along and I got sacked and now I'm a stable boy. Thanks, by the way."

"Don't mention it." Merlin said glumly.

George laughed and led him on to the laundry rooms.

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_Ale is a lovely drink drunk by knights, peasants and kings alike. So, wonderful reviewers (hint hint), let's join them and sing songs of sillyness!_


	4. Day Two: Three Baskets part 2

_Much love as always to MirrorMyThoughts, PaperSpades, Hiril Moon and sirius-severus-lover and xtremefrolicker89 for reviewing and faving respectively. I love you guys! Sorry it's taken me longer than usual to update - I've had a tonne (I am not kidding here people) of homework to do. Hopefully the next chappie will be up sooner. But I can promise nothing._

**DISCLAIMED**

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George tried not to laugh as Merlin yelped and leaped back for the _hundredth_ time that afternoon. Ironing, as it turned out, was not Merlin's forte.

The taller boy muttered a few dark curses and stepped forward again, wrapping a rag around his hand and gingerly picking the gently steaming iron off the floor.

"Alright?" George grinned, unable to resist.

Merlin scowled. "Oh great, yeah. Just great."

"Oh good." George grinned. "Want to take over?" He gestured to the large pile of slightly damp laundry. Merlin winced and George took pity on him. "Never mind." He smiled. "I'll help out a bit longer. Just as long as you can manage not to drop the iron."

"But it's _hot_!" Merlin protested, coming up to stand next to George.

"That is the idea." George nodded, ignoring Merlin's scowl. "Come on – try again. I can't help you every time his Royalness needs his tunics ironing. It's not that hard once you get into it…"

"You said that ten minutes ago." Merlin muttered, pulling a dark red tunic flat on the board and hovering the iron over it uncertainly.

George rolled his eyes and closed his hand over Merlin's and pressed it down firmly, pushing back and forth so the iron swept over the material, flattening it suitably. "See?" He said, releasing the older boy. "Easy. I'm going to get the baskets – you see if you can finish that tunic and some more stuff."

"I think I've got the hang of it now." Merlin nodded brightly, a strangely cunning gleam in his eyes.

George grinned uncertainly. "You said that five minutes ago." He walked off to fetch the baskets. Just as he picked them up, he caught sight of his sister's friend Rose and her recent beau – Sir Oldon's manservant – cuddled up together in a corner.

Scowling – George's sister had recently been worrying that Rose was avoiding her because she didn't want to be friends anymore – George crept up on them and startled them suddenly with a loud yell "Oi!"

They jumped a foot in the air and scrambled to their feet hastily. "George!" Rose bit her lip. "Uh…we were just…"

"I could see what you were _just_." George snapped. "Don't you have a retired knight to attend?" He growled at the other boy, who stammered and rushed away. Rose gazed after him ruefully, then turned to George with a scowl.

"What did you do that for?" She demanded. "Just because you're Mary's older brother –"

George silenced her with a look. "She thinks you hate her." He told her quietly, satisfied at the shocked gasp Rose tried to suppress. "So I'd spend less time in here with that idiot," He jerked his chin at the retreating manservant, "And more time actually doing your job and convincing Mary that you're still friends. Now go on," He shooed her away, "Back to the kitchens."

Rose stuck her tongue out, but obligingly picked up her skirts and ran off. George smiled slightly at a job well done. With a start, he remembered Merlin, and picked up the baskets and jogged back, hoping that the hopeless boy hadn't burned holes in all of Prince Arthur's tunics.

George rounded the corner, and stopped, the baskets falling from his arms and his jaw dropping. Merlin was lounging with a smug grin next to a large pile of neat, pressed, folded laundry, arranged in size order and perfectly finished.

"I-I-I –" George stammered, pointing dumbly at the pile, and then at Merlin. "Y-y-you…how?" He finished in a strangled croak of astonishment.

Merlin just smiled and shrugged. "Told you I had the hang of it." He grinned, picking up the baskets and loading the laundry into it. "Shall we?"

George could only nod mutely and stare as Merlin lifted two of the baskets and edged carefully out, leaving one basket for George.

By the time they were back in Arthur's chambers, George had recovered (just), and was well enough to grin as he revealed the next task on the manservant's list. Dog walking.

Merlin stared at him, trying to guess if he was being serious. "You're joking, right? Please tell me you're joking."

George laughed. "What's so bad about dogs?" He asked blithely.

Merlin sighed and made to sit down on Arthur's bed, then suddenly realised how long he had spent making the damn thing up and stopped himself just in time, rising to stand again with a disgruntled expression. "It's not that they're _bad_ or anything, it's just that they all seem to think it's funny to make me look like a fool." He sighed again. "Like more of a fool, I mean."

George smiled and patted Merlin's shoulder. "Don't worry. You're not a fool – just a bit clumsy."

"Thanks, George." Merlin smiled slightly. "For helping me and everything."

George shrugged. "It's no problem. Think of it as my thanking you for getting me out of this job. I mean, it pays better than a stable boy, but it's not worth it for me." He shuddered. "Arthur's too nasty. Especially when he's with his friends."

Merlin glared at him. "Thanks, George. That's really helpful."

George grinned and slapped his back. "There see? You're better already." He nodded his head to the door. "I hope you can run fast, Merlin." He grinned. "Because Arthur's dogs certainly can."

Merlin groaned and walked out, only just avoiding hitting his head on the doorframe. George suppressed a laugh and followed him out, shutting the door behind him.

Later that evening, George was sweeping the stables when Merlin popped his head around the door, a rueful expression on his face. "George?"

"What is it now?" George grinned, leaning on his broom. Merlin stepped in completely, standing with his hands clasped in front of him and shuffling his feet. George propped the broom against one of the stalls and frowned. "Come on, it can't be that bad."

"I'm not sure if he's joking or not." Merlin explained. "He told me to saddle Hubert up for some night hunting. I know he's not allowed, so…" He trailed off with a helpless shrug. "I don't know what to do." He summarised, shuffling his feet some more.

George sighed. "He's testing you again." He told Merlin sympathetically, slightly angry. Arthur must really hate Merlin for going this far. If Arthur got caught, he would blame Merlin, and Merlin would have to just duck his head and take it. "Come on." He sighed. "I'll help you get Hubert ready."

"He's not joking then?" Merlin's shoulders slumped.

George shook his head. "Afraid not. If he's taking Hubert he'll want a horse for you too." He looked Merlin up and down, frowning slightly. "You don't ride." It wasn't a question.

Merlin shook his head. "Not for a few years. None of the villagers wanted me near their animals."

"Why not?" George frowned.

Merlin's eyes widened as he realised he'd revealed too much. "I don't know." He shrugged inadequately. "They just didn't like me."

"I'll get you Daisy." George decided on the most placid mare they had. "Why didn't they like you?"

Merlin sighed as George turned away to tack up the horse. "I don't know…I just…didn't fit in."

George could tell Merlin didn't want to talk about it, so he let it drop. "Daisy's the nicest we have at the moment." He told the boy instead. "You know how to saddle a horse?"

Merlin shook his head sadly. "No."

George shrugged. "Now's a good time to learn. Here – you watch me do Hubert, and then you try Daisy." He took an apple from his pocket and offered it to the touchy beast, who snatched it from his hand greedily.

He could sense Merlin watching closely as he fetched Hubert's (very expensive) tack, and slipped it all on, adjusting the straps, stirrups and reins carefully. Finally, he turned to Merlin. "Your turn." He smiled slightly. Merlin groaned and together they collected everything they needed and went into Daisy's stall.

The gentle mare was very patient as Merlin's long fingers struggled over the little buckles and holes, fumbling with the bit and bridle and tugging on her mane accidentally. But eventually, it was done, and Merlin stood back, smiling proudly at the badly saddled horse. Behind him, George winced. Hearing footsteps on the cobbles outside, he seized his opportunity – "Quick! Go meet Arthur!" – and stepped in as soon as Merlin's back was turned to adjust pretty much every single strap Merlin had put on. Daisy looked at him gratefully, and lipped his ear.

Grinning, George led her out of her stall just as Merlin and Arthur entered. The Prince looked at Daisy haughtily, and turned to Merlin. "I believe I said to saddle up _my_ horse." He said sharply, ignoring George altogether.

"I did." Merlin said, trying to hide his nerves as he stumbled over his own feet. "Here." He opened Hubert's stall and grabbed his reins. In the presence of his master, Hubert was certain of his status, and tossed his head at the affront, baring his huge teeth threateningly.

Arthur smiled, relaxing. George could see what was about to happen, and winced, closing his eyes. A yowl of pain told him his premonition had been right, and he opened his eyes gingerly to see Hubert's teeth clamped firmly around Merlin's hand. His sore hand.

Arthur laughed, then gaped as Merlin's eyes blazed and his other hand came up to slap Hubert firmly on the ear. The giant horse let go immediately, astonished that Merlin would hit him in front of his master.

"I told you not to do that!" Merlin snarled at the horse, who backed up a little. "Ow!" He looked at his hand – Hubert had broken the skin, and blood was already welling up. Merlin glared at Hubert and sucked the wounds balefully.

Arthur recovered from his shock and scowled, snatching the reins from his manservant and whacking Merlin hard around the back of his head at the same time. The blow jostled Merlin's hand and he hissed in pain, glaring balefully at the Prince.

Arthur glared right back, then turned his angry look on George, who shifted closer to Daisy. "You can put that horse back. My _manservant_ –" He spat the word out like a curse, "– won't be needing it."

"You mean I'm not coming with you?" Merlin asked hopefully. Arthur glared at him dangerously, and Merlin backed away.

"Did I say that?" His tone was blacker than ink, and he turned sharply, stalking out with Hubert at his side.

Merlin sidled over to George. "What did he mean by that?" He asked quietly.

George sighed, turning to put Daisy back in her stall. "It means he wants you to run after him."

Merlin moaned. "You have to be kidding me!"

George shook his head. "Sorry, Merlin. There's nothing I can do."

Merlin groaned again and pulled his neckerchief off to wind it around his bleeding hand. "How long do you think he'll stay out?" He whispered.

George shrugged helplessly. "It could be anything from an hour…to all night."

Merlin turned and banged his head on the wall of the stall. "Why me?" He asked the wood sorrowfully. "Why me?"

"You just have terrible luck." George said, patting his back. "You'd better hurry – he won't want to be kept waiting."

Merlin sighed and walked out with his head hung low. George sighed and turned to Daisy, who looked annoyed at all the fuss – she had been woken up, saddled up, and now unsaddled. Humans were so stupid.

George watched Merlin go out the stable door sympathetically. Arthur must really have it out for the poor bugger, he thought.

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_Aaaaand? Did you all catch Merlin's sneaky bit of magic in there? Hee hee, our favourite warlock is up to no good! Reviews are love!_


	5. Day Three: It Just Keeps Getting Better

_Mucho love and cookies go to PaperSpades, rockqween (Thanks for the fave!), XtremeFrolicker89 (Thanks for the well-wishing on the homework - much appreciated), sirius-severus-lover (There doesn't seem to be as much Arthur in this chappie as I had thought there was - sorry), MirrorMyThoughts, Manavie, barbequed hamster and Paula c. You guys are my reason for continuing!_

**DISCLAIMED**

* * *

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE DEVIL ARE YOU DOING IN MY STABLES?"

George leapt awake and banged his head on the low rafters. Cursing, he rubbed his head and looked down to see who his uncle was yelling at. The burly man had a tall boy by the scruff of the neck like a disobedient puppy, and his other hand, as large as a side of ham, whirled around to smack into the boy's ear.

The yelp was familiar, and George sighed as he recognised Merlin. "He's with me!" He shouted through the floor. His uncle paused and looked up.

"George? He's with you?"

"Aye." George half-fell down the ladder and rubbed his head awkwardly as his uncle released Merlin, who fell into a dazed heap on the floor. George tried not to grin as his uncle nudged the dark-haired boy with his toe and grunted.

"Don't look like much."

"Neither do I." George shrugged. "What does that tell you?" He grinned cheekily, and ducked a swipe from the larger man.

"More'n you'd care to think." He growled, turning away. "He'd best be outta here before breakfast, or I won't be so good-natured."

Merlin managed to rouse himself sufficiently to turn to George in disbelief. "That…was good-natured?"

"You should see him when he's hung-over." George grinned, offering Merlin a hand.

Merlin groaned. "I'd rather not."

"Wise choice." George nodded. He stood back and looked Merlin over critically. The older boy was a mess. Judging from the depression in the straw behind him, surrounded by Hubert's tack, he had only just managed to take care of the horse before collapsing himself. "How long were you out?" He asked quietly.

Merlin leaned against a stall and yawned. "Hours. I kept falling over." He groaned and slid to the floor. "And he kept yelling at me, and throwing stuff at me." He closed his eyes and his head lolled to one side, his exhaustion obvious.

George frowned. "Will anyone have missed you?"

Merlin nodded tiredly. "Gaius." He mumbled.

"Okay." George said determinedly, bending down to wrap an arm around Merlin and yank him to his feet none to gently. "Come on."

"Arthur'll be waiting." Merlin said, his eyes still closed. "I just need breakfast."

George rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll go tell the physician that you've gone to work on a breakfast of servant's porridge. That alright with you?" He asked sarcastically.

Merlin nodded gratefully. "Anything hot."

George sighed and set him down in a pile of straw. "Stay here."

"Like I could move." Merlin muttered, curling up and going to sleep.

George smiled despite himself, and ran out into the yard, the crisp morning air washing over his face. The sky was still dark overhead, though it was lightening in the east – dawn was on its way.

He returned with two bowls of steaming porridge from the kitchen, courtesy of his sister, and gave Merlin a gentle kick to wake him. "Here." He said, plopping down next to the tall boy and handing him his bowl. "Eat up."

Merlin dug in with a muffled "Thanks." The breakfast was plain, but filling, and Merlin polished it off in seconds. George took pity on him and passed him the remains of his own bowl. "You sure?" Merlin asked, his eyes hopeful and hungry.

"Yes." George smiled, waving for him to go ahead. "I can eat apples all day if I want to."

"Thanks." Merlin wasted no time in tucking into George's porridge and finished it in record time.

George helped him to his feet and they looked at the pink light creeping in through the stable doors. "I'd better go." Merlin sighed, taking both bowls. "I'll drop them off in the kitchens."

"Okay." George nodded. "Good luck."

"I'm going to need it." Merlin sighed, sloping out.

George mucked out some of the horses and tacked up Lord Godfrey's filly for his early-morning ride. Next he took in a few others from the guards who had been patrolling the outlaying borders of the surrounding area. Half the morning had passed before he found time enough to run over to the physician's quarters.

He knocked cautiously. He knew the old man could be crabby if he was interrupted. "Come in." A voice from the other side barked impatiently. George pushed open the door and stepped in – the physician was on the balcony with the broken railing. He reminded George of a raven, despite his white hair. It was in the way he cocked his head, and in the sharpness of his eyes, and the quickness of his tongue.

George didn't like ravens, or crows or magpies or any birds of that area. They were too clever for their own good.

"Well?" The physician barked, turning carefully and coming down the stairs. "What is it?"

"Just to let you know that Merlin went straight to work this morning." George gabbled quickly.

The older man raised one thin eyebrow. "I assume then, that you know where he was all night?"

George shuffled uncomfortably under the piercing stare. "Arthur went hunting." He mumbled. "And took Merlin with him."

"I see." The physician said sharply. "And why didn't he come back this morning for his breakfast?"

"He fell asleep in the stables, sir." George bowed his head. "So I got his breakfast for him – it was easier that way."

"Hmm." The physician fixed the boy with a steely glare. "That was good of you. What's your name again?"

"George." George muttered.

"Aha." The man nodded. "Arthur's old manservant. I trust you've found work elsewhere?"

"In the stables, sir." George told him.

"Ah, good, good." The white head bobbed sharply. "Very well. If you see Merlin, tell him that I'll expect him back tonight."

"Yes, sir." George nodded and backed out hastily. He ran back to the stables and threw himself into refilling the hay baskets, trying to forget the sharp voice of the physician and replace it with the bellows of his uncle and the other stable hands as they came in and out, collecting horses George saddled up for them.

At one point, Arthur came into the yard with a group of his knights and ordered their horses for them – Uther had ordered them on a border patrol. While George hurried to saddle up eight horses as quickly as he could, he heard Arthur yell at someone outside.

"Hey! Idiot! Go in there and find out what's taking them so long."

"I'm sure they're going as fast as they can, sire…" George recognised Merlin's weary tone.

"Did I say talk back?" Arthur snapped, his voice tinged with teasing as his friends laughed. "No, I don't think so. What did I say, idiot?"

Merlin sighed. "To go and find out what's taking them so long."

"Very good. So go _on_!" A stumble at the end of that sentence heralded Merlin's arrival in the stable doorway as Arthur gave him a hearty shove on his way. As he fought to stand up straight again, a knight stuck his foot out and Merlin tripped and fell flat on his face, much to the delight of the watching men, who howled with laughter.

George winced in sympathy, and ran over to help Merlin to his feet. The poor boy looked ready to drop, and sighed in resignation as Arthur's expression darkened. "You!"

"Me, sire?" George looked up, nudging Merlin to get him to go inside.

"Yes." Arthur scowled. "Get back inside and back to your job before I decide to have you thrown in the stocks."

"Yes, sire." George ducked his head and led Merlin inside, where he promptly collapsed in a pile of straw as he had that morning.

"I am not cut out for this job." Merlin groaned. "Does he ever stop?" He looked up at George, who shrugged helplessly.

"He just really hates you."

"Arg!" Merlin let his head flop back into the straw. "_Why_? What have I ever done to him?"

"You stood up to him when he was bullying me." George shrugged as he finished the last horse.

"And then I saved his life!" Merlin growled. "What sort of twisted reward is this?"

"Not a very good one?" George suggested. "–" He broke off as Arthur stepped into the doorway, and motioned sharply for George to shut up. George gulped and obeyed.

"I'll say!" Merlin went on, his eyes still closed as he ranted, oblivious to the Prince with the thunderous expression who was drawing ever closer, silent as a stalking cat. "I mean – I could take being anyone else's servant, but what fool king puts me under Arthur? Surely he knows how impossible to please he is? How spoilt, stuck up and arrogant he is!" George winced with each insult and prayed for Merlin to _shut up_, but the idiot just kept _going_… "I mean, even the Lady Morgana doesn't like him! And she likes pretty much everyone! Even Uther!" He sighed. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"I wonder." Arthur said icily. Merlin's expression froze, and there was a long pause.

"George, please tell me that you practise impressions of the royal family in your spare time."

"I'm fairly certain he doesn't." Icicles practically dripped from Arthur's words.

There was another long pause, and then Merlin cracked one eye open a slit. He closed it again hastily. "I don't suppose…"

"No." Arthur interrupted, his voice roiling with fury. Merlin gulped audibly, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"Not even…"

"No." Arthur snarled. There was another pause, as the Prince clenched, and unclenched his fists. "Get up."

Merlin scrambled to his feet faster than George would have believed humanly possible, and winced at the expression on Arthur's face. "Am I sacked?" He asked hopefully.

Arthur's eyes blazed and his gloved fist flew out to grab a handful of ink-black hair. "No." He snapped. "And you can count yourself lucky that I'm not going to have you flogged. I think an afternoon in the stocks will teach you some manners." He dragged the boy out by his hair, ignoring the little grunts of pain his roughness was producing.

Pausing at the door, he looked at George, his expression still furious. "Get those horses out here."

"Yes, sire." George ducked his head and did as he was told. That was the only way to get by under masters such as Arthur Pendragon, and the sooner Merlin learnt that, the better.

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_Poor Merlin! I feel really mean. :( Reviews are love!_


	6. Day Four: Wisdom And A Shock

_I love you guys! Love especial (not sure if that's a word, but hey!) to barbequed hamster, MirrorMyThoughts, rockqween, XtremeFrolicker89 (many thanks for the well wishes, right back atcha, from the bottom of rainy England! ;)) sirius-severus-lover, PaperSpades, Aishuu, buttonbit (thanks for the fave!), Manavie for faving, and Esoteric Memories, Audeamus and Kaerya for adding this story to their alerts. You guys all rock international socks! Woot!_

**DISCLAIMED**

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George groaned as he offered an apple quarter to one of the ponies, Truffle. It was a silly name for the beast, but George liked him well enough anyway. The pony snickered and lipped at his hand for more. George sighed and stepped out of his stall, dragging his shovel behind him. He hated rainy days, and his face was miserable as he regarded the downpour outside.

"George?"

George grinned as he turned to Merlin. "Yes?" His smile faltered as his eyes swept over the boy – he looked even worse than yesterday.

"Hide me." Merlin sighed, slumping against a pillar.

"Who from?" George frowned, though he could guess.

"Arthur, who else?" Merlin groaned.

"Why's he after you now?" George asked, coming to stand next to him.

"He found _dust_ under his bed." Merlin rolled, and then closed his eyes. "My life is officially awful."

George nodded. "Yes. You do have it pretty bad."

Merlin laughed weakly. "Thanks, George. Aren't you meant to be an optimist?"

George shrugged. "In most situations. So what should you be doing now?"

"Washing."

"You'd better get to it then."

"What?" Merlin opened one eye. "No sympathy at all?"

George smiled. "Sorry, Merlin, but we've both got work to do."

Merlin sighed wearily and turned to leave. As he reached the door, he paused and turned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "How did you make it through the first week?"

George pulled a face. "By ducking. A lot. And bootlicking."

"Bootlicking?" Merlin scowled. "Well you won't catch me doing that."

George shrugged. "It works. Sometimes. I didn't have it quite as bad as you," he laughed. "No one did." He sat down on a hay bale and patted it, inviting Merlin to take a seat next to him, which the tall boy did, curious as to the latest wisdom George was about to unveil.

"Arthur is a prat," George told Merlin quietly, "But he's a prat for a reason."

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "This I have got to hear."

George grinned, then lowered his voice. "I'll tell you a secret – Arthur _hates_ being a Prince."

Merlin pulled back abruptly, a grin forming on his face. "You're joking!" He scoffed. "He loves it! Lording over everyone else, always having the best food, being the best swordsman…"

"He loves it most of the time." George nodded. "But sometimes he hates it. He wishes he could be no more than a common peasant."

Merlin looked at him strangely. "Okay, I give up. How do you figure that?"

"He talks in his sleep."

Merlin's eyes widened slightly. "That's interesting."

George saw the calculating look in the boy's eyes and shook his head. "Whatever you're thinking, it won't work – Arthur doesn't let any but his most trusted manservants in his chambers while he's asleep."

"Why?" Merlin couldn't help himself.

"Because one of them tried to kill him when he was twelve." George said, deadly serious. Merlin stared at him. "I'm not joking." George told him. "He's always especially harsh on his manservants in the first week – to test them." Merlin continued to gape, and George laughed. "He never gets close to people in case they get themselves killed for him – it's happened before. Plenty of men in battles. He has nightmares about them too sometimes."

Merlin opened and closed his mouth soundlessly. "I take it he trusted you enough to let you into his room when he was sleeping then?" He managed to say finally.

George grinned. "Or he knew I'd be too scared to try anything."

Merlin sat back, thinking. "What happened to the man who tried to kill him when he was twelve?"

"Uther killed him." George shrugged. "Obviously."

"Yeah, but how did he get caught? Seems like a pretty foolproof plan to me."

George gave Merlin a strange look. "You've been plotting Arthur's murder, haven't you?"

"Not seriously!" Merlin protested as George tried not to laugh. "I wouldn't actually kill him. Myself." He added in a mutter.

George sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward. "Whatever. Well, it so happened that the guard the manservant bribed wasn't as easy as he made out – the moment night fell, he went and told the King. It was close though, apparently." He shrugged. "Arthur defending himself single-handed against an armed assassin, and a fully-grown one at that. Lucky he's a light sleeper or he wouldn't be alive."

Merlin shuddered, and George nodded, imagining waking up to see a man standing over him with a knife. Very unpleasant.

"How many manservants has Arthur had since then?" Merlin asked.

"Lots." George replied. "Most get sacked within the first week. Keep at it." He patted Merlin on the back kindly. "As soon as you're past the week mark, he'll ease up. Honest."

Merlin raised one eyebrow disbelievingly but said nothing, leaning back and contemplating what George had told him in silence. "So…" He said eventually. "Why does Arthur hate being a Prince?"

George stood up and brushed himself down. "Expectations and stuff. And at least I know my father loves me."

Merlin stood as well, cocking his head. "Arthur doesn't think Uther loves him?"

"Well," George gestured helplessly with his hand. "Can you imagine Uther as your father?"

Merlin nodded thoughtfully. "He is a bit…cold."

"And Arthur tries really hard to live up to his expectations." George said. "He's afraid he won't live up to Uther's legacy."

"That's ridiculous." Merlin scoffed. "Legacy? What legacy? A legacy of short temper, quick sword and complete and utter hatred for magic?"

George looked at him like he was a complete dunce. "Uh…yes."

Merlin sighed. "Fine, but I think it's a stupid thing to aspire to."

"What you think doesn't matter." George told him matter-of-factly. "You're just a servant. Who has no free time." He added pointedly.

Merlin stuck his tongue out and turned to leave. "Fine. I can see when I'm not wanted."

"Really?" George asked teasingly, earning a glare as Merlin exited the stables. That problem gone, he turned his attention back to what really mattered – shovelling manure.

Later that evening, he passed a worried-looking Gwen as she walked through the courtyard on her way home. Being the kind and thoughtful person that he was, George stopped to ask her what was wrong.

"Oh, nothing." She smiled. "I just…nothing."

"Gwen." George smiled as she turned to leave. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. Come on, what is it?"

Gwen tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth, then relented. "Alright. Well, it's just that Merlin got in trouble for helping me carry some fresh towels to Lady Morgana's chambers, and Arthur was quite angry – apparently it's the fifth time today he's been late for something." A smile of amusement tugged at her lips before she regained her composure. "Arthur was yelling at him as I left. I was just a bit worried, that's all." She tried to shrug it off as though it didn't bother her in the slightest, and George smiled, seeing right through her.

Gwen was well-known among the servants for her caring disposition and her heart of gold. She never had a bad word to say against anybody, and always helped those in need. At first glance she may have looked like another timid servant who wouldn't say boo to a goose, but George and the other servants knew that she could be like a lioness if roused. She was rarely roused though.

George patted her shoulder gently. "If it makes you feel better, I'll check up on him before I head in."

"Oh would you?" Gasped Gwen with undisguised relief. She stiffened suddenly and tried to backtrack. "I mean, it's not like I was that worried. I mean I _was_, obviously, but –"

"Gwen." George held up his hands, smiling. "It's okay to admit you like him."

Gwen blushed furiously. "I don't like him!" She insisted. "I mean, I do _like_ him, but I don't _like_ like him. Not as more than a friend." She sounded unconvincing even to herself, and ducked her head, blushing harder, if possible.

George laughed and turned to leave. "Yeah right." He called over his shoulder, chuckling as he went on his way, taking the servant's stairs to Arthur's corridor. It wasn't Arthur's corridor as such, but all the servants named it thus – Arthur was the only permanent resident in that corridor at any rate. As he neared the Prince's chamber door, he slowed down at the yells that came from within.

"How dare you question me!" Arthur shouted, his anger clear through the wood, and enough to make George flinch.

"How dare you treat me like a slave!" George's eyes widened as he recognised the voice shouting back, and he hung his head and moaned. _Merlin_! He thought despairingly. What have you done _now_?

"You are my servant!" Arthur yelled.

"That doesn't mean you can treat me like dirt!" Merlin yelled back.

"I could have you killed on a whim!" Arthur bellowed.

"Go on then!" George could just see Merlin spreading his arms wide in an invitation. "Kill me. Is that how the future King of Camelot treats his subjects?" His voice was laced with scorn, and there was a deadly silence that had George clenching his fists tight enough to leave crescent-shaped indents in his palms.

Arthur's next words, when they were spoken, were low and filled with hate. "Get out."

"With pleasure." Merlin spat. The door slammed open, and George shrunk back. Merlin emerged and stalked off down the other way, muttering angrily to himself about spoilt princelings that needed to be taught lessons.

George gulped, looked warily at the still-open door, then straightened and went after Merlin. As he passed the door at a sort of half-run, Arthur's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"You. Get in here."

Swallowing nervously, George turned and stepped into the doorway of the Prince's chambers. "Yes, Sire?"

Arthur was leaning against his table, anger still visible in his eyes. But George had been the Prince's servant long enough to recognise the hurt there too. Merlin's harsh words, never spoken by anyone in the presence of the Prince himself, had cut Arthur to the quick. He was shaken, and a look of pleasant surprise flitted across his face at the sight of George before he masked it under a show of haughtiness.

"Good. It's you." He got up and turned away, his hands fists at his sides. "I have no further need of that ignorant idiot my father appointed." Understanding dawned in George's eyes, which widened in denial as Arthur spoke. "You're rehired."

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_Shock! Gasp! Yes? No? Do tell :D And no worries - Merlin becomes Arthur's servant again in time for episode two remember? I was going to have Arthur tell Merlin to his face, but didn't think that would really work with Merlin's shock when he get's sacked in episode two, poor baby! So, uh...yeah! Reviews are love!_ ^^


	7. Day Five: Battles and Burning

_Mecha of gloriousness! ^^ I love you all! Love especial (definately sure that's not a word now...) to buttonbit, Kaerya, Manavie, MirrorMyThoughts, XtremeFrolicker89 (snow? wow. Haven't had proper snow here...well...ever!), and ScaredsndConfused. You guys are my reason for updating!_

**DISCLAIMED**

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George stayed to clean up Arthur's room and light the fire for the night, all the while containing his shock, horror and resignation under a stoic mask that would have made the most battle-hardened knight nod in appreciation.

Finally, Arthur dismissed him, and he was allowed to leave. He made it all the way down the corridor and into the virtually soundproof servant's stairwell before letting loose the scream that had been pent up inside him for the last hour. He stood there for a moment, eyes too bright, breathing heavily.

He screamed again. And once more. At the end of that, his throat was raw, but he felt much better. Now he needed to find Merlin. He and the stuck-up Prince needed to reconcile, and fast. George really didn't want to be the one to tell Uther that his son had spurned the manservant the King had given him.

Plus, he liked catering to horses much more than catering to Arthur. Horses were nowhere near as snobby – even Hubert had been getting better thanks to Merlin's slaps.

Everything had been going so well! Well, it would have been going better if Merlin could have just skipped the first week of unnecessary pain, George admitted as he jogged down the stairs, but really, Arthur did have to weed out the weaklings. Being manservant to the Prince was a big, tough job.

When he got to the physician's quarters, however, the lights were off, and Merlin's window was far too high to risk climbing up to, or even hitting with a stone. George had tried that once and broken a window. As he was a young man who actually _learned_ from his mistakes (rare), he decided to leave it till morning.

The horses recognised him and nickered softly, begging apples pieces from their stable boy. George patted each one and smiled as he passed them before clambering up the ladder to the hay loft and collapsing in the straw, the heat from the animals below him wrapping him in a warm blanket.

He woke to shouts and panicked yells.

George scrambled down the ladder at his uncle's bellow and stood sleepily to attention. "What's going on?"

"Mercian knights!" The stable master growled, taking up a war horse. "In the forest. They've taken a lady captive – daughter of what's-his-face…Lord Somethingorother." He shrugged as he threw tack by the armful to George, who caught it more on reflex than anything else.

"Our knights are riding out now." He continued. "The Prince at the head. I'll need you with me – rumour is that a few of the dogs are trying to sneak in and start fires, and the stables are high risk. Everyone knows how good Camelot's horses are." He added proudly.

George nodded and tacked up Hengist, one of the giant horses ridden by the knights. He and his uncle moved as fast as they could, George leading the mounts out one at a time.

They were two-thirds of the way through when a steward ran through and yelled at the stable in general, "Prince Arthur calls for his manservant. Say's he's in the stables. Call for Prince Arthur's manservant?" He looked around, shrugged, then left.

George paled as his uncle fitted the stirrups on Haydan, another war-horse. "Thought you were sacked." He grunted.

"I was." George nodded, brain whirring. "I'll go get the new one!" Heedless of his uncle's angry shouts, he fled from the stables and bolted for the physician's quarters, banging on the door.

Luckily, Gaius was already up, though no less grumpy. "What do you want?" He snapped.

"Arthur calls for his manservant." George gasped. Gaius rolled his eyes and turned his head towards a closed door at the back of the chamber.

"Merlin! Destiny calls!"

There was a groan a dying man couldn't have rivalled, and a few seconds later, the door opened to reveal a sleep-rumpled Merlin, leaning against the doorframe. "Destiny can wait for me to wake up." He grumbled.

"No, it really can't." George said, dashing forward and shoving Merlin back in his room. "Hurry up and change you dolt! Arthur's going to kill you if you make them start out late!"

"What's going on anyway?" Merlin asked as George listened hard to make sure he was really getting dressed. "Everyone's running around like headless chickens."

"A band of Mercian knights have captured a Lord's daughter and Arthur's riding out to meet them. Now."

Merlin swore, and the dubious sounds quickened. A few seconds later, the tall boy appeared at the door, shoes on the wrong feet and shirt on inside out. George rolled his eyes and sighed. "You can fix those on the way. Come on – my uncle's going to flay me alive for running away at a time like this. Oh, and if Arthur says anything about having me as a manservant instead," he added quickly, "He's just joking around. He used to do it to me when he rode out with his knights."

"Really?" Merlin asked, unconvinced as he hopped on the spot, switching his boots around.

"Absolutely." George nodded firmly, grabbing Merlin's shoulders as he straightened and propelling him towards the door. "Now get out there and for goodness sakes don't get into any swordfights. Or any fights."

"Okay – seeyoulaterGaiusI'lltrytostaysafebye!" He added as his head disappeared round the corner.

"Good luck, Merlin." The physician called after him, rolling his eyes.

George ignored both of them and concentrated on finding Arthur in the throng of knights in the courtyard. It wasn't hard – no one stuck out quite like a Prince who knew exactly what he was doing. Arthur had been taken to border skirmishes since he was a child, and learned how to fight as soon as he could hold a sword. He was the best knight in the kingdom, and everyone knew it.

"Sire, your manservant." He gabbled, shoving Merlin in front of Arthur.

"What?" Arthur's voice was sharp and slightly disbelieving. "But I –"

"I'm needed here, Sire." George looked him straight in the eyes, standing up to the Prince for the first time in his life, and feeling quite good at the flash of surprise he saw there. "In case the Mercians try to set fire to the stables." He turned as his uncles' bellows rose above the clamour in the courtyard. "Excuse me, my Lord." He bowed. "My uncle."

He ducked under a horse and weaved his way through the crowd to his uncle's side, sighing mentally as he received a clout around the head that made his ears ring.

"Fool!" The stable master snarled. "Don't you ever run off like that again, d'you here me? Now get back in there and don't make me regret hiring you!"

George nodded wordlessly and slipped into the stable, calming the horses left behind and praying to whatever gods were listening that a) Arthur calmed down a bit and rehired Merlin and b) the Mercians didn't kill anyone and didn't burn down the stables. Especially not the stables.

Unfortunately, the gods didn't seem to be listening. Or perhaps they were playing with him just because they could. Gods were like that sometimes. Either way, George soon found himself covered in soot, coughing his lungs out as he rushed into the blazing stables to lead the horses out.

He and his uncle managed to get three of five out, but the stable collapsed before they could collect the last two. George had never seen his uncle cry before, but he did that night – great heaving sobs as he had to be restrained from trying to lift the burning beams with his bare hands.

George stood off to the side, his wide eyes the only spots of white on his face as he listened in horror to the screams of the dying horses. They sounded horribly like humans, and in his head George was nine years old, attending the burning of a witch in secret, having sneaked away from his job as spit boy for the while.

The condemned woman was young, barely out of her teens. She was beautiful, George remembered, with long ebony locks and pale skin. She looked almost like the Lady Morgana, who George also remembered from that day – watching from her window, as she always did for an execution of any kind.

The witch was charged with bewitching a man and forcing him to kill other men for her. George recalled how her face had not been as beautiful as the King told the crowd her crimes, twisted in hate as it was. Seven men were dead because of her, and she had screamed as she died. Long, wailing screams of agony that made George flee the courtyard and run back to the kitchens, accepting the beating he was given gratefully, only too eager to curl himself into the hole in the wall and let the roar of the fire drown out the screams of the woman dying outside.

The horses sounded like that, but with more panic, he noted, than hate, as the woman had screamed. Still, they were added to his collection of sounds he would never forget for as long as he lived.

One of the stable hands called for help, and George ran over to attend to the frightened horses, numbly running through his duties as stable boy. He had just finished leading the horses out to pasture when Arthur and his knights returned.

One was dead, two badly injured and two sharing their mounts with others. Two horses had been killed and one was slashed badly across the chest. Merlin was riding behind Arthur on Hubert, which gave George a shock, but he concealed it and ran over to take Hubert's reins, stroking the horse's blood-spattered head. The horse snapped at his fingers, bad-tempered as ever, and George smiled tiredly.

"The stables?" Arthur asked in a tight voice. George recognised it – a mixture of fury and guilt. Arthur got that tone whenever one of his knights was killed or hurt in battle.

"Gone." George sighed. "We're putting the horses in the paddocks."

"Fine." Arthur nodded, looking past him at Gareth and Lionel, his two injured knights.

George ducked his head and caught Merlin's eye as he slid gracelessly off Hubert's back. The giant horse swung his head around, teeth bared, and Merlin smacked him away without raising his head.

Arthur stood very still for a moment, blood matting in his hair from a head wound. "Merlin…"

"Yes, Sire?" The boy's voice held none of the animosity it had earlier.

Arthur looked down, then forward again, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. "Attend me later." Only George realised the significance of this, and danced an inward jig, rejoicing the fact that Arthur had just rehired Merlin.

"Yes, Sire." Merlin nodded, smiling slightly.

Arthur nodded once, then strode off to help carry Gareth, who was unconscious.

George turned Hubert around, and Merlin walked quickly to join him at his side. "Did you get all the horses out?" He asked quietly.

George shook his head shortly. "Two didn't make it – the stable collapsed. My uncle raised most all of these animals from foals. He's going to be hard to live with for a while."

"I'm sorry." Merlin said.

"Nothing you could've done." George said amiably. "What's done is done. No point crying over spilt milk, my mother'd say."

"Mine too." Merlin smiled, and the two boys shared a grin.

"So what happened?" George asked after a moment. "Arthur let you ride behind him!"

"Is that a big deal?" Merlin asked innocently.

"Is it a big – ?!" George repeated in disbelief. "I don't believe you. Seriously, Merlin. How did you manage that?"

Merlin shrugged as they reached the gate into the paddock. "Ask Arthur."

"Sorry, I value my life a little more than that." George said dryly. "Off you go, brute." He patted Hubert's flank, dodging a half-hearted kick as the horse moved off to mingle with his fellows.

"You'll never find out then." Merlin placed his hand over his heart dramatically.

"Suits me." George stuck his tongue out, grinning at Merlin's glare. "You'd best be moving – he said he wanted you to attend him." They both knew who George was talking about.

"Yeah, yeah." Merlin grumbled. "Honestly, don't we get a single day's rest?"

"You wish." George grinned, grabbing his shoulder and turning him to face the east. "Look – dawn."

"Lovely." Merlin sighed. "I'd best be off before he decides to do me a favour and sack me. I thought he would – I yelled at him last night. I mean, really yelled at him." He sounded a bit guilty and George patted his shoulder.

"Doesn't seem like he's taken it to heart. I mean, you're still his manservant, aren't you?" He grinned inwardly at the irony of the conversation. Merlin had been sacked (admittedly only for a few hours, but still), and he didn't even realise it!

"Unfortunately." Merlin rolled his eyes. "Alright then, I'm going. See you later!"

"Good luck!"

* * *

_So should I do a little supplemental chapter of the battle against the Mercians from Merlin's point of view? You decide! But you have to review first! Out of randomness, I just found out that the battle of Camlann (where Arthur died) could have been held mere miles from my house, in Queen Camel. Though some local comedian has scratched or painted off the bottom of the 'n' in Queen, so the sign says Queer Camel now...which I have to admit I do find very funny. But yeah! Arthurian battles could have been held in my back garden! Unlikely, but a girl can dream, right? :D_


	8. Supplemental: Merlin & Arthur in Battle

_I am really, really sorry for not updating. I really am. Honestly. But stuff happened, I went on holiday, I went back to school, I had lots of exams (still do - urgh), and stuff just piled up. Sorrysorrysorry!!!_

_Ahem. Love to MirrorMyThoughts, static-as-you-walk-away, Kaerya, buttonbit, ScaredandConfused, PaperSpades, XtremeFrolicker89, alice, Hiyami and Suifox. Also to Kesomon, Arianith, CassandraMatinui and khibaeri for faving! And HopeCoppice and BlueSouledShadowDragon for putting it on alert. I love you guys!_

_I will update this time. I promise._

**DISCLAIMED**

* * *

Merlin grunted as he yanked his shirt on as fast as he could. A border skirmish? Why? Why him? And why on earth did Arthur have to go? Wasn't it risky to send the only heir of Camelot into a battle?

Questions to which he already knew the answers. He growled under his breath and stumbled to his door flinging it open to George's despairing expression. "You can fix those on the way," he sighed, looking at Merlin's feet. Merlin looked down and his eyes widened in comprehension – he had been in such a hurry, he'd put his boots on the wrong feet. And his shirt was inside out.

"Come on!" George insisted as Merlin tore his shirt off and pulled in the right way in. "My uncle's going to flay me alive for running away at a time like this! Oh, and if Arthur says anything about having me as a manservant instead," he added quickly, "He's just joking around. He used to do it to me when he rode out with his knights."

Merlin switched boots as quickly as he could. "Really?"

"Absolutely." George nodded and pushed him towards the door. "Now get out there and for goodness sakes don't get into any swordfights. Or any fights."

"Okay – seeyoulaterGaiusI'lltrytostaysafebye!" Merlin gabbled as he was spun round the corner by an anxious George. The stable boy kept a crushing grip on his arm as he dragged Merlin out into the crowded courtyard. Merlin gaped – was this how all battles started? The yard was full of yelling men, clanking armour, rearing horses and all manner of sharp, pointy weapons. It was pandemonium, confusing and scary.

George shoved him, and he stumbled in front of a familiar horse – Hubert. "Sire, your manservant." George gasped.

"What?" Arthur frowned. "But I –"

"I'm needed here, sire," George interrupted. "In case the Mercians try to set fire to the stables." Merlin could feel the nerves radiating from him like heat. "Excuse me, my Lord," he bowed, "my uncle." And ran away, ducking and weaving through the throngs of flighty horses and battle-ready soldiers with an ease Merlin could only admire.

"Wonderful." Arthur's growl brought him back to earth with a painful thud, and Merlin scowled. "Well don't just stand there!" The Prince nudged Merlin's shoulder none-too-gently with his boot. "Go and get a horse. You can't keep up on foot."

"Right." Merlin didn't bother to bow as he slipped away and grabbed the reins of a lanky gelding and hauled himself into the saddle. He sat there for a moment, stunned and surprised that he'd managed to get up so easily, and grinned.

"Knights!" Arthur's voice rose above the clamour, and the noise in the courtyard stilled slightly. "We ride!"

There was a hearty cheer in response, and horses reared as the knights waved their weapons in the air, ready to kill the invaders. Merlin took the opportunity to weave through to Arthur. "Why am I here?"

Arthur looked at him. No, Arthur _glared_ at him. "To watch my back."

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "Then who watches their backs?" He jerked his head behind him to the mass of soldiers on horseback.

Arthur drew in a shallow breath and turned his gaze forward. "I do." He said in a low voice.

"And my back?" Merlin added hopefully.

Arthur turned to glare at him again. "Your back means nothing."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Nice. That's noble of you."

Arthur's eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to respond angrily, but the knights had finished their cheering now, and Arthur closed it again, his eyes telling Merlin that he would beb in big trouble later.

Merlin watched as Arthur spun Hubert to face his knights. "Gideon, take your company and head around to the east. I'll go west, and Bedivere, your company will charge forward to prevent the Mercians from attacking Camelot head on."

Gideon nodded and Bedivere thumped his chest determinedly. Arthur nodded to both and to the men behind as they shuffled into their companies. "Be swift." He said, and Bedivere grinned, shoving his visor down and raising his sword with a yell.

"With me!" His men shouted in response and they galloped away down the drawbridge. Gideon let loose a war-cry that chilled Merlin's bones and led his company after them.

"Stay close, and don't even think of running off like a coward." Arthur growled out of the corner of his mouth. Merlin looked at him, affronted, but Arthur paid no notice and turned to his company instead. "For Camelot!"

"For Camelot!" They shouted back determinedly, and horses reared in the darkness, steel glinting in the air. Merlin only just managed to kick his gelding into action to get them down the drawbridge, managing somehow to stay up the head of the column with Arthur.

He wondered as they rode (or rather, the knights and Arthur rode – Merlin just let his gelding follow Hubert and the others, letting himself be carried along placidly), what the battle would be like, and worried. His mother had always said how battle was an ugly affair, and Merlin certainly held no misconceptions of it being a deal of glory and beauty. His best friend from Ealdor – Will – had taught him that. His father had been killed in service to their King, and Merlin knew how harsh war could be on those the dead left behind.

And he didn't even have a sword. What on earth was he going to do? How was he meant to protect himself, let alone Arthur? Merlin worried and went over nasty scenarios in his mind as they rode into the forest to meet the Mercians.

In the trees, Arthur ordered them to slow to a walk, and they crept through the undergrowth as quietly as possible. Merlin swallowed hard and leaned over his gelding's neck. He didn't like the tension emanating from the knights – it made him nervous. Plus, he had the feeling they were being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he shivered.

Arthur turned towards him, his eyes black as pitch in the darkness. He waved to get Merlin's attention and pointed at his sword, then at Merlin, a questioning expression on his face. Merlin shrugged helplessly and looked around. He was sure they were being watched.

Obviously Arthur could feel it too, and he gestured for his knights to cluster close. The battle, when it came, came suddenly.

An arrow whistled past a knight's head and his horse reared. Merlin threw himself flat as an arrow shot over his own shoulders and embedded itself in a tree. Suddenly, there were yells, and blue all around as the Mercian knights attacked.

Merlin's gelding reared as a figure in blue slashed at it, and Merlin was thrown off, winded and bruised. As he tried to catch his breath, he saw Arthur ordering his knights into a formation and attacking the Mercians with brutal sword strokes, aimed to kill.

He staggered to his feet and leaned against a tree. A Mercian knight charged at him, having breached Arthur's wall. One of the red-cloaked knights spun quickly and hacked into the man's unprotected neck. He fell with a scream that ended in a gurgle, blood black as ink spraying out like a fountain. Merlin felt his entire body go cold, and his stomach clenched painfully.

The man wasn't dead. He crawled towards Merlin, dragging himself through the leaves slowly, moaning and leaving a dark trail of blood behind him. Merlin knew the man probably couldn't even see him – he just wanted to crawl away from the battle to increase his chances of survival.

Merlin dashed forward and picked up the Mercian's sword from where he had dropped it. He looked back at the man uncertainly. As a subject of Camelot, he should kill the Mercian.

No, he decided. He was no killer. That was Arthur's job. Leave the killing to the trained knights. He was here to watch Arthur's back, and that was exactly what he would do.

Arthur's wall had spread out – there were more Mercians than them, but the knights had horses, and the Mercians had underestimated the power of a war-trained horse. Arthur was still on Hubert, and the giant animal was a demon in the night. While Arthur slashed and hacked at the Mercian soldiers on the ground, Hubert whirled and spun, lashing out with fore and hind legs, rearing and bucking to escape crippling blows and kicking out with force enough to kill a grown man.

But then he tripped in a small hole, and stumbled, and Arthur slipped and fell from his back. He rolled and came up as Mercian screamed a battle cry and lunged for him.

And Merlin's eyes flashed gold.

The world slowed down, and he leapt forward, sword rising up to meet the Mercian's and save Arthur. The world caught up with him just as the Mercian's sword came down on Merlin's with more force than he would have thought possible. He staggered and tripped sideways, but the damage had been done – Arthur was ready now, and Merlin turned to see him clashing swords furiously with the Mercian, who was screaming insults as he fought.

Another man in blue ran at Arthur from behind, and this time the Prince didn't have Hubert to kick the life out of him, so Merlin dashed forward into the Mercian's path as Arthur ran his blade through his opponent's stomach and killed him, turning in time to see his manservant defending himself helplessly against a Mercian knight who had been making to plunge his sword into Arthur's back.

The Mercian punched Merlin squarely in the neck, and the boy choked and fell backwards. Arthur rose in his place, parrying the blow meant to kill Merlin and turning it back on the Mercian.

Merlin coughed painfully, his eyes watering. His fingers tightened around his sword and as another Mercian made to attack Arthur – honestly, he seemed to attract them like flowers attracted bees – and he swung it up hopefully.

The Mercian kicked him away effortlessly, and Merlin groaned as he thudded to the ground and the Mercian raised his sword to kill Arthur.

Arthur turned on instinct to see a Mercian who would surely have killed him, fall with a yell of pain as an ineptly-handled sword sliced into his ankles. Arthur stabbed his blade through the fallen man's back and followed the sword back to a dark-haired head – his manservant, again.

As the victory cry rose through the darkness and the blood-soaked leaves and spattered trees, Arthur considered his position, and then approached the boy, who he had expected to cower against a tree or try to flee at the first sight of blood.

Merlin groaned into the ground and raised his head to see a gauntleted hand offered out. He gripped it without thinking, and was pulled up off the ground easily. Damn knights and their superior strength, he grumbled inwardly. He raised his eyes to meet Arthur's, and gaped, surprised.

"I believe that's the third time you've saved my life tonight." The Prince said quietly. "You have my thanks."

"I'd rather have you be civil to me for a change." Merlin sniped, aching in places he didn't even know he could ache. He watched through dark blue eyes as Arthur considered him silently, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"I didn't expect you to fight." He said finally.

Merlin snorted. "I didn't. This is the first time I've used a sword. I just waved it around really – are they meant to be that heavy?"

Arthur smiled amusedly despite himself. "Yes, idiot."

Merlin scowled. "I'm not an idiot, you prat. And my name is Merlin."

Arthur stared at him thoughtfully. No one else dared talk to him like that, not even his knights. His father would have had any servant who spoke to him like that put in the stocks…

Arthur turned away, back to his knights, who were now checking their losses. He stopped suddenly and looked over his shoulder at his servant, who was still standing there, looking very small and thin in nothing but his blood-spattered jacket and breeches, while everyone else was in full armour. "Your horse is dead," he said shortly. "You'd better ride with me…Merlin."

Merlin tilted his head to one side as the Prince walked away to check over his knights and smiled crookedly. Maybe things would get better from here on in. Just maybe.

* * *

_Likey?_ ^^'


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